Pearls & Primroses
by PhantomLilac
Summary: "Promise me, Erik, that every primrose in the garden will shine like pearls." Erik, lost and awaiting his demise, stumbles upon the Vicomte Raoul's sister, Lavender, who is desperate to marry, for if she doesn't, her fate is eternal banishment. Unwillingly, he accepts her plea...and does not know that on the other end of the bargain, Christine secretly wants him back. EOC/EC/CR


He stumbled at first.

Gone! Destruction...desolation...

It never once struck him that he could be followed. He didn't really care, because everything was gone.

Fire! Fire! Fire in his soul, fire chains wrapped around his heart, wrapped around his home, wrapped around the world, burning and melting into nothing strong enough to quench the hungry orange tongues lapping at love.

Molten chocolate curls had come from that fire, matched with fair skin and blue eyes like fresh sea foam. Flavorful lips crafted by garden rosettes grinning to reveal dazzling pearls...those same lips had touched his, and when they pulled away, all of his fire had flickered and burned out, for those lips had sucked away his very life, leaving him a trembling heap, no longer able to cry or speak.

Stumble...stumble...keep moving! He was so tired, so very tired, but he needed to find somewhere to go. Would it matter if Death's shawl was cloaked upon his shoulders? He did not have a mask, so what would that matter, either?

His feet ached from all his walking. He could not even croak out for help...no one would want him now. He was alone in a cold, hateful world. By tomorrow, every parchment scrawling would have his name and sketch upon every blasted street corner.

"Why? Why me?" came a lonely, estranged voice.

Pausing, he pressed against the blackness of the bridge underneath. It was the voice of a woman, but it was not the one he had sought the most. No, by now, she was at a home with the Vicomte, maybe even sleeping beside the Vicomte in her treacherous way...not even caring that in that kiss, he had been reborn and rejuvenated.

Bitterly, he echoed, "Why? Why me?" though it came out utterly emotionless in nature. His throat was so hoarse from crying...he had nothing left to even mutter a word from.

A slight gasp sounded from this mysterious voice, who then asked in a cordial manner, "Hello? Who's there? Show yourself, please...I need help..."

Being a natural gentleman, though still hesitating, he thought for a moment, before he thought for a moment.

"Mademoiselle, you would not want my help. I will show myself, if you promise not to alert authorities, for I have committed a terrible sin." he murmured with all his strength.

For the first time, the lady stepped into the light, and he, stunned, tipped his head to a side. His first instinct was to kill, for this young woman was the sheer image of the Vicomte, her hair curled up and around one side of her face, her eyes huge and that sickeningly summery green, like fresh grass in spring time. This was not his Christine, and now he was recoiling.

With a sneer, he stepped into the light, to see her eyes widen. Isn't that how everyone reacted to him? He had his wig on, but his mask, had been left behind.

Her mouth cracked open just a peek, and she shook her head in disbelief.

"The Phantom?" she thought herself for a moment, before without letting him speak for himself, snatched his hand, recoiling in her skin.

"You'll have to do, this is an emergency." she said through gritted teeth, leading him away, lingering in the shadow of the church soon to enter.

"And we'll get you another mask as soon as this is over." the young woman added. For a moment, the Phantom raised his eyebrows expectantly, only for the two to be delved into his least wanted place...a house of the man he resented most...God.

.::.

"That blasted sister of mine ran out again!" Raoul howled as soon as he had returned home. Christine shyly looked at her feet.

"Why would Lavender leave like this? Was she unhappy?" she murmured in question, quietly to her fiancee. He shook his head, collapsing on the polished leather recliner and burying his whitened knuckles in his face.

"Phillipe told her-before he died-that if she didn't marry before her 19th birthday, she'd be cast out from the deChagney family forever. It's a sacred family tradition for the girls...and Lavender waited and waited and now she'll come home with a beggar in her bed, and ring 'en garde'!" Raoul groaned.

Christine placed a placid hand upon his shoulder for comfort. Both were still ruffled by the events of tonight-and she was still wearing the beautiful wedding dress Erik had bestowed upon her. Grievingly, she ran her free hand across her faintly painted lips, remembering that kiss, that she didn't know why she hadn't just begged Erik to let Raoul go and she stay in his place...because she had made her heart decide, and she blindly ran off to a certain, and promising future, but the one thing missing, was any hope for happiness.

.::.

It was done. Erik numbly still followed this lady around in the shadows. It had been done, signed in contract.

They were bound by marriage.

His skin crawled as it shivered with pins and needles. Marriage. He was in utter disgust with this "marriage" concept.

Even worse, he was married to his rival's sister.

"I promise you, you will get your reward for this." she kept saying over and over again, it was almost droned into his brain.

"What reward?" he deliriously chanted, until she peeked over her bird eyes to glare at him.

"I can offer you what you can't have, but my brother does."

"That is...?"

"Christine Daae." she sniggered, arousing his attention.

Gladly, Erik would've responded and agreed, for that's what his friends, the voices, were screaming at him at that very moment...but instead, his heart was aching. This is what he wanted, but could not have, no matter what the Vicomte's sister said.

"I will try," Erik gulped, "But there is no guarantees. She left me, why should I even want her back? I let her go."

His heartbeat faltered for a moment when the Vicomtess did not utter another word, just kept walking towards the mask shop with great and heavy heart.

"I didn't catch your name, since legally I agreed to become a part of the deChangey family, and we both share part of a name...I gave you mine, Erik Mulheim," he babbled quickly, curling his lip back, not certain if he had spoken too far.

She, with a hint of sarcasm, daintily stopped and swerved to his direction and smiled ever so faintly.

"I would be Lavender deChangey, but since I am a married woman now, I am Lavender Mulheim. Are you satisfied, monsieur?" she mumbled. Clearly, she was in utter exhaustion from desperately wandering the cobbled, knobbed streets and alleys of Paris.

Erik cordially took her arm in the crook of his. Somehow, in his loneliness, and although he did not quite trust her yet, he finally accepted her company, and he did not want to admit, slightly was enjoying it. Someone sane to take care of him...someone sane...

Christine had been sane. Oh no, now he was thinking about Christine again! Poor vain, selfish Erik! He bit his inner cheek in his frustration. Think, think, think! Mask! He needed a new mask, just like Lavender said!

An hour or so passed, and now a brand new, full face mask had been sculpted and placed upon his face. It wasn't white, thankfully, for he clearly would've been noticed by authorities, and he and Lavender had purchased new clothing to disguise themselves...sort of. The mask was crimson with a gold trim-something fancy, it was clearly designed by Asian workers, maybe the Chinese, for its intricate dragon design along the top right corner near his glowing amber eyes.

At last they arrived to that dreaded home-it was the deChangey's mansion...and how horrifyingly sophisticated it appeared. Both, now married couple, gulped, for inside, they would face their worst nightmares-two entwined snakes in the pit of vipers.


End file.
